


How Old Are You?

by dropithoran



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Cereal, Cute, Fluff, Grocery, M/M, Narry - Freeform, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 07:25:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3842182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dropithoran/pseuds/dropithoran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which harry and niall decide who gets the last box of cereal--by playing rock, paper, scissors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Old Are You?

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in three hours and will probably won't ever edit it again. Just because.  
> Hope you enjoy!

"Zayn! Where the fucking hell are my Frosted Flakes?!" Harry screeches to his flat mate as he scavenges the cupboards for the said cereal brand. He closes the cupboard with a bang and opens one again in a hurry. Saying that he's hungry is an understatement, and saying that he's mad is utter bullshit--he's fuming. His head is starting to pound due to the hungover he currently has but he tries to ignore it. He needs his flakes. Immediately.

Seconds later, he hears heavy and fast footsteps coming his way. He then hears Zayn laugh at his expense, so he quickly turns around and finds the lad with an amused expression, his eyebrows raised and a smirk plastered on his face. Harry swears he would rip his face right off if he doesn't answer him.

Harry flares his noses and marches over to Zayn, "My Frosted Flakes!" Harry cries, his hand gesturing to Zayn helplessly. "Where did it go?"

"Haz," Zayn starts breathlessly, still chuckling. "You finished them all last night. Don't you remember?"

"Who has cereal at night?" Harry questions, crossing his arms over his chest. He tries to recall what happened last night but it was all a blur to him. He was drunk, he can remember that, and he can remember Zayn dragging him out of the pub. What he doesn't remember is arriving home and the events that happened after that.

"Apparently, you," Zayn states as he makes his way to one of the stools by the kitchen island. "We came home and the first thing you said is you wanted Frosted Flakes. I told you you can't have any but you were really eager, mate, so I gave them to you and you ate them all."

"Why would you give me any? Could've told me I couldn't, you know?"

"You were willing to punch me if I didn't! I have a presentation today and I can't afford to damage my pretty face. So I had no choice."

"You're an idiot," Harry mumbles.

"Yeah, so are you. Now I'm off. You'll be fine by yourself, yeah? I won't be long." Zayn waves goodbye and walks out the flat without a second glance. He leaves a pouting Harry there. Of course Harry will be fine by himself. He's not some sort of child that you need to keep an eye on every minute of everyday. He's fine. But he is hungry, though, and he can't be damned to cook anything. So, quickly, he grabs his wallet and his coat, and goes to the nearest grocery store to buy him a box of Frosted Flakes.

Harry opens the glass door and quickly looks for his cereal. He has to go aisle after aisle before finding it. Relief washes over him when he sees that there's still one more box standing on the top shelf. His stomach starts to rumble, as if it's excited to finally have something in them.  Well, he can't blame it. He hasn't eaten yet, and he's quite excited as well.

As he's about to reach it, a voice calls out for him from behind him. He grabs the box and turns around, finding a gorgeous blond bloke standing right there. He has the bluest eyes Harry has ever seen, and Harry notices those eyes are planted on the Frosted Flakes Harry's holding in his hands. 

"Are you going to buy that, mate?" the blond then eyes Harry, pointing lamely at the box. 

Harry's dazed, frozen in his spot, as he stares at the stranger in front of him. He's a beauty, Harry can definitely say. His hair is disheveled, pointing at different directions. Harry's eyes travel down to the bloke's face and he notices the smile tugging on his pink lips. It's cliche, yes, but Harry's cheeks warm up and he's sure it's turning an awful shade of pink. He can't help it. The blond is pretty. 

"Mate, are you going to buy that cereal?" 

"O-oh." Harry shakes his head and looks down to his cereal. "Yeah, I was planning to. Why?"

"I was going to buy it me self"--Me self. Oh, God, how cute is that."--Is that the only one left?"

Harry takes a quick glance over his shoulder before turning back to the lad. "Sorry, mate, looks like they're all out of it." 

The lad cusses under his breath before sending a hand to his hair. Harry imagines how that must feel like, the lad's hair he means. Is it soft? It looks rather soft. What shampoo does he use with that?

"Do you think you can let me have it?"

"Let you have what?" Harry counters, raising his eyebrows up. 

"The cereal," the blond says. He looks rather desperate for it, his eyes eyeing Harry helplessly. "I can pay you double for it, if you want. I just really need it."

"I need it to, mate," Harry chuckles and holds the box beside his face, shaking it. "I haven't had breakfast and my stomach wants as much of this cereal as it can take."

"Please," the blond pleads, his hands in a prayer-like position. "I'll pay you double, triple even! Just please."

"Sorry, mate." He's cute, he really is, but Harry's stomach goes first than any other cute stranger he meets in the cereal aisle. So he can't give this up that easily, even if he pays him or undresses right in front of him. 

The blond groans and rubs his face furiously. Why does he want it so bad? Harry is not in the place to judge since he'll probably be the same if the roles had changed, him pleading for the cereal and the stranger being a total prick and not giving in. But Harry's being a prick for a reason--Harry's starving and his stomach is rumbling so loud he's sure the blond can hear it. 

As Harry's about to walk away, the blond speaks up. "How about we play rock, paper, scissors for it?"

And with that, Harry laughs. "What? How old are you?" 

"I'm 25 and hungry, now come on, man." Blondie puts his hand out in a fist, ready to play the game, and that just makes Harry laugh even louder. 

"I am not playing rock, paper, scissors for a box of cereal with a grown man, alright?" 

"Come on, please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"Are you sure you're 25? Because I'm not believing it one bit." Harry continues to laugh as the stranger slightly frowns at him. He must be so desperate and eager to have the last box of Frosted Flakes that bad to have suggested such a thing as rock, paper, scissors to see who gets it. Harry's amused, to be honest, but that doesn't mean he'll give in just like that. Maybe he will but he's having too much fun with this bantering that he'll wait about another minute or two.

The blond huffs. "I am, alright. I'm just hungry and I want the cereal."

"Why not pick another one? There are so many varieties to choose from," Harry announces in a professional manner, gesturing to the shelf behind him where there are, in fact, about twenty brands of breakfast cereals. The blond follows Harry's hand but shakes his head.

"I don't think you understand," the blond says, "It's Frosted Flakes. It's the best one there is here. To be honest, that's the only one I ever liked. The others are just crap, really."

"Ah, finally," Harry laughs, "Someone who understands. I don't think  _you_  get it, though, that I'm not giving this up, even if you're cute."

"What?" 

Harry watches the smile grow on the blond's lips, his eyes twinkling with the new discovery. Harry's flushed and embarrassed as he ducks his head down to try and hide the blush inevitably appearing in his cheeks. He clears his throat, to gain a little courage to talk to this lad again and not scurry off due to embarrassment, and raises his head up again. The lad's sporting a smug look now, his arms folded over his chest.

"Fine, I'll play you for it." Harry places the cereal box in between his armpit and holds out his hand that's formed in a fist, ready to play the game. 

Blondie’s face lights up and steps closer to Harry. "Whoever loses, right?" he questions dumbly. 

Harry chooses to answer simply rather than a sarcastic note. "Of course."

They start to play and end up having both scissors. So they started again. Harry counts to three and they show their hands, which are still formed in fists, meaning they both have rocks. They both start again, but this time both of them show paper after the count of three. 

"Will you please stop copying me?" Harry whines but ends up laughing when he hears the blond snort. 

"Oi! You're the one who's two seconds late to show their hand. You're the one who's copying  _me_." 

"Let's just do it one more time, alright?"

They put their fists out, their knuckles barely touching. Harry intakes a short breath, resisting the urge to grab the lad's hand. The blond's the one to start, lifting his fist up, and Harry follows. Both count to three at the same time, and when they form their hands to their desired form (rock, paper or scissor), Harry has scissors while the blond shows paper.

"Yay! I won!" Harry cheers, raising his hand in the air. 

The blond chuckles at his expense, the crinkles by his eyes appearing. Harry smiles even wider at the sight. "You have a mentality of a five-year old, you know that?" the blond points out, chuckling.

"Says the man who suggested we play rock, paper, scissors for a box of cereal," Harry points out, and the lad shrugs in a slight agreement.

"You won fair and square, then. I'll grab another brand."

"Or--" Harry starts, not really sure what to say next. Or what? What is he even thinking? The blond looks at him questioningly and Harry smiles. "We can share this if you want?"

"Share it?" The blond says unsurely. 

"Yeah, I mean, we can go back to my place and I'll give you some." Did that sound right? Harry doesn't think that sounded right. To him, he must've sounded like some creepy bastard. 

"I'm not sharing a box of cereal with a stranger," the lad laughs. "I'm Niall Horan."

"I'm Harry Styles," Harry says and puts his hand out for Niall to shake, which he does quickly. 

"Okay, now you're not a stranger." Niall claps his hands together once and smiles. "Can we have cereal now?"

"Are you really sure you're 25?" Harry teases as they approach the check-out counter and he pays for the box of cereal their supposed to share. They both walk out the glass door and walk down the side walk side by side. 


End file.
